


Courier's Dilemma

by MeltyRum



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, Wild Adapter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltyRum/pseuds/MeltyRum
Summary: Mob stuff.
Relationships: Fai D. Fluorite/Nino
Kudos: 4
Collections: Boku no Hero Academia x Persona





	Courier's Dilemma

Another evening with another sensitive package. It was not too often that Nino needed to hand-deliver a parcel to one of the more powerful patriarchs of the Tojo clan, but it was quite useful that he was trusted well enough to do so. Even he might grow a little nervous, however, when confronted with one of Tokyo’s more dangerous criminals—one whose name was synonymous with the money, ruthlessness, and reach that it commanded. This man was not one who angered easily, it seemed—but one also didn’t need to draw his ire in order to become his target. Still, one could rely on this patriarch to be _logical,_ _and_ perhaps that was what made Nino feel a bit more cautious about this particular delivery. Someone with too much logic might easily write the courier out of the organization.

Naturally, he had some personal reasons for being wary of Sanada, as well.

Because no one seemed to understand Sanada’s true power; even if his affability came with the understanding that business came first, he was the patriarch that Nino felt he understood the least. There was nothing empirically measurable that could explain what made this particular gangster such a threatening man. Naturally, having money and men was enough to make for a frightening member of the yakuza—but he did not seem to do anything particularly special to earn the loyalty of those who worked for him; in terms of money, Sanada (and many of his men) seemed to enjoy a privileged and opulent life even while his organization did not generate the same amount of wealth that had made the Hakuho famous.

And—all business aside—not a single soul could inform you of Sanada’s true capabilities. He and his officers did their jobs with aplomb; of all the ones Nino had spoken to, they would uniformly shrug or shake their heads when it came to the question of Sanada’s quirk. They had never seen it, they said, although some would add that they had picked up rumors from “the old days”—when the patriarch was just another hopeful in a suit, like them—that suggested the powers Sanada commanded were something truly terrible.

Considering Sanada’s position, it seemed as though those rumors must be true. This was the same man, after all, that could call himself brother—an _equal_ _—_ to a terrifying presence like Ozen Setsuna, who certainly did not seem like the type of person who would charitably assist an old man in maintaining some elaborately designed ruse. But if the aforementioned rumors were _not_ true, then they were discussing a man who had very skillfully bluffed his way to a rock-solid position in the clan, which he continued to hold at an age that many yakuza footmen failed to gracefully reach.

Even with all that knowledge—even with all those nerves—Nino had to admit that Sanada was not a man that he minded visiting, necessarily. This was a task he had performed many times before, and he was just the courier, after all; there was little chance that Sanada would ever set his sights on him, or ever have need to feel disappointed in Nino’s efforts. The only reason he might would be if he discovered the courier’s true employers.

So Akira Ninomiya maintained his usual careful and comfortable smile as he was admitted to Sanada’s very hospitable office, which was somewhat lavishly furnished in Western fashion with a cozy sitting area, expensive-looking rugs, a dark wooden desk that appeared as spacious and well-crafted as it did utilitarian, a fair handful of bookshelves and matching filing cabinets, and—of course—the little bar which one could only imagine Sanada helped himself to throughout the day.

The patriarch had gone to great lengths to making his office comfortable, making it resemble an inviting study more than a business office. Considering the amount of time he spent here, that was not completely unreasonable.No doubt there was a safe hidden somewhere in here, as well, although Nino was not privy to its location.

Sanada did not look up until he heard the door close behind his guest, ostensibly wrapped up in his usual task of babysitting documents. With a smile as dangerous as it was disarming, Sanada got to his feet to accept his parcel. “Thank you, Nino. I’ll need just a moment to check this, so please have a seat—if you’re not in a hurry.”

Nino sat; it never hurt to keep his ears open around such powerful people.

Sanada resumed his own seat as he opened up the haphazardly sealed little mailer that Nino had brought by. The courier was only a little surprised to see Sanada pull another folder of paperwork from within. After penning down a note on the face of the folder and setting it carefully aside, Sanada turned his attention back to Nino.

“The package looks to be in good condition,” he observed, returning to his feet and making his way to his little collection of alcohols. “No trouble on this delivery?”

“None at all,” replied Nino, returning the patriarch’s smile.

“Very good. Since I have you here, would you care for a drink?” asked Sanada, brandishing what appeared to be a brand new bottle of wine.

Nino was very well aware of the risks inherent in accepting a drink from such a man, but he could not be sure if they outweighed the risks of refusing. Still, his job made the decision for him: “I shouldn’t; I’m driving tonight, after all.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” He poured a single, solitary glass before reaching for his lighter. “A cigarette, then?”

Nino nodded, reaching for his own lighter after accepting the proffered cigarette and hurriedly leaning forward to light Sanada’s for him before taking care of his own. He had been working in the ranks of the yakuza long enough to understand its varied traditions—including the stereotypical ones which everyone knew about, such as this one. The junior always lit the cigarette, which meant Nino had provided his services—both as a courier and a lighter carrier—to many rather impressive individuals in the Tojo clan.

Nino sat quietly as he enjoyed the smoke, waiting patiently for Sanada to select a topic of conversation, as he had few doubts that the man would only invite Nino to stay if there were subjects he wished to discuss. The courier was not an important man, so there was not usually much business he could comment upon—but he did visit many people throughout the clan, which meant people often wished to get information from him when they could. He could appreciate that Sanada liked to make that quite plain.

“Any observations to share from your routes—or is there anything that you require?” Sanada asked eventually, letting his glass of wine take in the room’s light.

Nino politely shook his head. “In terms of news, there’s nothing very interesting,” he said, truthfully. “I am sure you are no stranger to the news regarding Fujimaki-san. And you likely heard from Shinra himself about his incident with the chairman.”

Sanada smiled thinly. “I’ve heard. But it appears Shinra-sensei is thankfully still with us.”

Nino nodded calmly, although he still wondered if the good doctor would ever face repercussions for his indiscretion. The yakuza had rules, for better or worse.

“There’s someone else you might like to hear about,” began Nino, after a long drag on the cigarette, unsurprised that it still exhibited that vanilla flavor that Sanada was so fond of.

“Oh?” Sanada seemed curious. He made a vague gesture for his guest to continue. “Do tell.”

“In addition to the cafe, Fai is working as host now, if you don’t know,” he explained, deciding this level of sharing was fine since Sanada could no doubt discover this all himself, if he truly wanted to. “The location is not yakuza owned, Tojo or otherwise.”

“A host?” Sanada let out a satisfied chuckle. “Yes, that seems like a role he would be well-suited for. It’s good to hear that he’s getting by.”

He found that amusing, considering what Sanada had done to him. “I will be sure to tell him you said that.”

Sanada nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Fai still speaks with Shinra—since you brought him up. Perhaps you can inform him that I have bequeathed his eye to the doctor, in case he would ever like to take a look at it.”

Nino maintained his smile, not surprised that a man of Sanada’s refinement found that the macabre nature of a pickled eyeball clashed a bit too much with the rest of the decor.He gave Sanada a nod of acknowledgment, knowing that the patriarch would take the meaning. For different reasons, they were both men who seemed rather comfortable sitting in relative silence—Nino because he was an expert listener, and Sanada because even a conversational lull could not dislodge his confidence or control.

Indeed, Nino had sat in this chair plenty of times before, wondering what relevant information he might be able to pass on to—or pick up from—his smirking benefactor. Even with the mobster’s violent past—one that had already brutally brushed very closely to people that Nino loved—it was difficult not to consider Sanada a _friend,_ of sorts, albeit a calculating and intimidating one. But when Nino was intimidated, it was something he could take in stride; he was trained for this, after all. Being a policeman who became bedfellows with criminals was all he had known for a long time now, so it was easy to see the ones in charge as something that everyone—at the end of the day—could claim to be: just one person.

The trouble with undercover work at large was that there always loomed the risk of the agent developing an attachment—an affinity, a loyalty—to the organization which they infiltrated. Nino would have to admit—to himself only, of course—that he had indeed fallen for that trap, as evidenced by his relationship to a person whom most would consider a murderer. He was careful to hide it from Naomasa—a task made simpler by virtue of Nino being very good at hiding things in the first place.

It may not last forever, though, he knew. Sooner or later—maybe next year, or perhaps in twenty—there would come a pivotal moment where (assuming everything went right) Nino would need to pursue a change in identity, furnished by the police organization he served, which might allow him a stab at a more peaceful life along with whoever he could bring with him. That would be Fai, in this case.

Well, he _hoped_ that Fai would still be around when the time came.

As though he’d had an ear to Nino’s thoughts, Sanada began to speak again: “I would be surprised if you are not, but are you aware that Naoto Shirogane is investigating the serial ice murders?”

“Fai has told he himself, yes.”

Sanada nodded, finally taking a sip of his wine. “I am informed that she continues to make progress. You are close with Fai; are you planning to take any action?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I believe there is little I can do but hope that her investigation fails.” Tapping away some of the ash from his cigarette, he turned the question back around: “What about you? This seems like a case you would take interest in.”

“You mean because it concerns Fai? Or because he has completed work for me in the past?” Sanada asked with a faint smile.

There was no need for Nino to answer.

“It is indeed possible she will present some complications for the organization,” Sanada admitted, sitting back in his seat as he toyed with the glass in his hand. “If she knows enough to come across Fai’s name, it is reasonable to assume that she has connected the deaths to me in some way.” He gave himself a satisfied smile here as he savored another sip of wine. “Unfortunately, I am quite sure she will find no evidence that I commissioned these murders. If asked whether they benefit me, I would be forced to admit that they did, but that makes no indication as to any guilt on the part of myself or the clan.”

Nino nodded, deciding this was sound—for the most part. “However—if Fai is taken—there is a chance he will supply testimony regarding you, or your other assassins… or even myself.”

“Indeed. I suppose that means the appropriate course of action would be for us to silence Fai ourselves.”

In a rare and momentary lapse of carelessness, Nino felt his smile drain away.

This was quickly met with a dark little chuckle from Sanada. “My apologies; that joke was in poor taste. But the truth is that removing Fai is a much more sensible strategy than taking any sort of aggressive action toward Shirogane-san. They simply want their ice murderer, after all: if we leave them alone, they will likely do the same for us. If Fai is arrested and subsequently fingers anyone in the clan, that is testimony they will need to take with a grain of salt.”

Nino let his smile return, partly to match Sanada’s amusement and partly because Sanada very likely had no idea as to his true allegiances. The patriarch’s words made quite a lot of sense, but Nino had seen a lot: if asked to corroborate the involvement of Sanada and his associates in these murders, he could easily do so.

Unfortunately, even that would be no guarantee of police action against the Tojo.

“Then you believe we have nothing to fear from Fai’s capture,” observed Nino.

“Nothing, save for whatever pain might ache our hearts in knowing that he is out of our reach. In any case, this may be a bridge we never need cross.”

Nino indicated his understanding; at a distance, it might look as though Sanada was making fun of him, but the courier could sense that the man before him—cold and callous though he was—still harbored a soft feeling or two for Fai. If the former hero _was_ ever convicted of these serial murders, he would be missed by many—by innocents, police, and criminals alike.

“The situation may change, however,” added Sanada, finishing his drink and getting to his feet to return to the bar. “And if the facts change, so too will my conclusions. If anything reaches your ear regarding this, I would be very interested to hear it.”

“Of course,” said Nino, stubbing out the vanilla cigarette as he stood up, as well; this seemed to him a good opportunity to begin making his exit. Something in Sanada’s voice seemed to communicate as much; perhaps certain leaders could train their voices to send such subtle signals. Naomasa wasn’t much different, in that way.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Sanada-san,” he said. “Is there anything I can deliver for you before I take my leave?”


End file.
